


Werewolf Boyfriends

by blackmountainbones, BobSkeleton



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Biting, Blowjobs, Drug Use, Howard has a crisis but what else is new, M/M, Men Crying, Naboo’s out of fucks to give, Praise Kink, Vince and Howard have dog brains, Weed, Werewolves, gratuitous jokes about Howard’s monthlies, gratuitous synonyms for the color brown, idiots-to-lovers, it's basically like an episode of the boosh with some porn in the middle, no actual bestiality but animalistic sex, seriously Howard cries a lot in this fic, the Zooniverse, there is both comedy and very hot smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 03:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobSkeleton/pseuds/BobSkeleton
Summary: While on nightwatch during the full moon, Howard encounters something strange outside the Jungle Room. One thing leads to another, and well, Howard’s a werewolf now. Vince, as usual, tags along for the ride, and gets more than he bargained for. Watch these two dog-brained idiots navigate their burgeoning relationship as well their monthly cycle.





	Werewolf Boyfriends

**Author's Note:**

> Werewolf Julian--the plotbunny so nice it bit twice. When Bobby and I decided we wanted to do a Werewolf Julian fic, we had two ideas: one scary ([The Werewolf of Croydon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116828)) and one crack (this). We couldn’t choose just one, so we wrote both. Happy Halloween!

Howard sighed.

He was on nightwatch alone, again. Technically, the keepers were not allowed to do nightwatch without a partner. Also technically, Vince was supposed to be accompanying him, but for the third time this month Vince had batted his big blue eyes and insisted that there was a Rolling Stones tribute band concert he couldn’t miss, and couldn’t Howard cover for him just this once?

And Howard had agreed, even if it meant working nightwatch on his own for the third time this month. It was becoming more and more impossible to resist Vince when he turned his big blue eyes on Howard and played with his hair, shyly asking Howard to do something Howard knew better than to do...

But what’s done is done. And thus Howard was settling in for a cup of tea in the keeper hut, in a desperate attempt to keep his eyes open, all by himself.

It was easier when Vince was there. Vince, brimming over with youthful energy, and endless imagination, made staying up all night easy. It reminded Howard of their childhood sleepovers, so long ago now, how they’d stay up all night talking and playing imagination games until dawn.

Howard dunked his teabag into the bin. If he added a bit too much sugar, well then, no one was around to see. 

He settled back against the worn green couch and clicked on the telly, cycling through the channels until he found something in a foreign language. He didn’t understand a damn thing, but trying to kept his mind awake enough that he figured he wasn’t in danger of falling asleep.

Howard sat, sipping tea and concentrating on the foreign film for a long time. Then he heard it.

A long, plaintive howl.

Howard Moon had been a zookeeper a long time. He _ knew _ what wolves sounded like, and _ this _ wasn’t it. There was something in the sound, something that felt too much like an altogether _ human _ sadness, to be a wolf or a dingo or any one of the several canids at the zoo.

He strained his ears. But there was nothing abnormal, just the chatter of the nocturnal animals.

Eventually, Howard convinced himself it was a sound effect for the movie he was watching, though there were no wolves to be seen onscreen. No forests, either, for that matter. It didn’t make sense, but Howard had seen enough foreign arthouse films to know that making sense didn’t mean anything to true auteurs, so he accepted it without question. 

Then the howl came again, this time, followed by a cacophony of snarls.

Howard clicked off the TV, tossing the remote onto the cushions as he scrambled to his feet.

There was _ something _ out there. Unfortunately, it was Howard’s solemn duty, as night watchman, to determine what it was and eliminate the threat (if any) it posed. Grabbing a torch and zipping his jacket, Howard exited the hut, reminding himself that as the sole keeper on nightwatch, the animals depended on _ him _alone for protection. 

Howard crept as quietly as he could, which wasn’t easy for a man of his stature, down the winding footpaths of the Zooniverse that he knew so well. He held his torch aloft, shining its light into the dark corners and shadows, and if the beam trembled a bit with his nerve-shaking hands, well… nobody was around to see it. 

Light spilled into the various cages, illuminating animals he knew well. However, they were all awake, eyes wide and lamplike in the night. They were silent and still, too, which unnerved Howard. Usually, when the animals were awake, they chittered or shuffled or snuffed or flapped around their enclosures. But now, though their eyes were wide open, they were all still and silent. Howard silently cursed Vince for being away, wished he could ask his apprentice zookeeper what the animals were saying in their silence. 

The silence shook Howard. He tried to talk himself up in his mind, reminding himself that he was a Moon, a great Northern man from Leeds, and a little darkness and quiet shouldn’t shatter his nerves, no sir. 

His motivational speech to himself was interrupted by a rustling of leaves, coming from the nearby the Jungle Room. Howard froze in fear, all thoughts of bravery, manliness, and courage whisked away on the breeze. He shone his shaking light around, trying to pinpoint the origin of the noise. He urged his mind to stop picturing murderers and monsters, and had almost convinced himself that this entire escapade could be chalked up to an escaped Jack Cooper the Fox, when he heard the unmistakable sound of four heavy feet hitting the pavement just outside the doors to the Jungle Room. 

There stood a wolf that was unlike any wolf Howard had seen in his years as a zookeeper.

The wolf turned and faced Howard, making deliberate eye contact. Its small, dark eyes burned with an intelligence that was distinctly _ human _, and Howard’s grip on the torch loosened. He managed to catch it before it fell from his grasp, and Howard shone the beam on the creature’s torso this time.

Not only did the wolf have disconcertingly human eyes, it was wearing the tattered remains of a skinny pinstripe suit, and the fur on its head and neck resembled a disheveled version of a shag haircut Vince would envy.

The wolf’s mouth opened, its sharp teeth glinting white under the full moon, its tongue lolling fat and dripping saliva. Then the wolf licked its lips.

Howard couldn’t catch the torch in time. It slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground and switching off. On instinct, Howard lunged for the dropped torch.

It was probably the wrong thing to do when confronted by a predator. He’d learned enough to know to avoid sudden movements around a territorial animal, but in the moment, everything Howard knew escaped him. 

The creature with the body of a massive wolf and the eyes of a man sized up Howard, circling him before the attack. Paralyzed with fear, Howard could do nothing but watch as it _ pounced, _ all long, sharp claws and gnashing teeth. Its breath was heavy, damp, and reeked of rot as powerful jaws latched on to Howard’s arm.

The wolf’s breath was rank and hot against his skin. Howard screamed, begging for his life, and then, when the wolf seemed unmoved by Howard’s pleas, Howard did what he normally did in these situations: he passed out.

The last thing Howard saw before the world went black was the moon, hanging full in the sky. It spoke with the voice of silver-faced simpleton, singing a nonsense song into the night. 

“Sometimes, when you are The Moon, the full moon… things happen. Sometimes little, er, beasties come out of their hiding places under rocks, or in chapels, or schools. And I watch the things that howl at me in the night times. And the howling, it frightens me. So I call Jupiter and we have a Howling Song, eh heh heh! It--it’s not my fault! Not The Moon’s fault! I’m just here, doing my job, being the main moon… the full moon.”

And then the breath of the beast was on his neck, and Howard, thankfully, chose that moment to lose consciousness.

It was just past dawn when Howard finally came back to himself.

He opened first one eye, then the other, working through the fog of sleep to figure out where he was. His body was wracked with shivers as he realized he was on the cold concrete floor of the Zooniverse outside the Jungle Room. Stiffly, he sat up and caught sight of his arm as memories of the night before came rushing back. 

He’d been attacked by… _ something. _Maybe one of the mod wolves had gone wrong or something. Howard was too exhausted, cold, and shocked to work it all out. The moon still shone above as he staggered back to the keeper’s hut, cleaned the bite as best he could, and hunkered down into his sleeping bag, exhaustion overwhelming him. Nightwatch was technically not over until seven, but after his adventure with the wolf, Howard could barely keep his eyes open.

That was how Vince found him the next morning, huddled into his 80-fill goose down quilted survival monstrosity and dead to the world.

Howard came to to a blurry gold and black shape shaking him and saying his name. “Howard? Howard? Howard?”

He groaned and pushed himself upright, blinking rapidly. Vince came into focus, all blue eyes and ridiculous hair, an expression of concern on his features. “Urgh,” Howard groaned again, contemplating the pros and cons of staying in bed vs. waking up.

Vince shoved a mug full of warm tea into his hand, and, invigorated by the caffeinated vapors, Howard decided to wake up.

Vince added too much sugar to his tea and nattered on about the Rolling Stones tribute band he’d seen the night before as Howard slowly grew more conscious. As he did, Howard grew aware of an uncomfortable ache on his forearm. His memory of the night before nothing but a vague blur, he pushed up his sleeve to inspect the offending wound. 

The scratch was worse than he’d expected. In fact, it looked less like a scratch than a bite, if the four long, jagged incisions were anything to judge by. The skin around the incisions was red and puffy, the wounds themselves leaking pus.

Stunned, Howard stared down at the bite. He’d suffered many animal bites in his long, illustrious career as a zookeeper, but never anything that looked like this... Quickly, he calculated the time since he’d had his last rabies vaccine, sighing in relief when he realized it had not yet expired. 

A disgusted squeal interrupted Howard’s contemplation of his wound. “Ewww, Howard, what’s that?” Vince’s hand closed around Howard’s wrist as he inspected the bite.

“What, this?” Howard shrugged, gesturing at the bite. “It’s nothing. You know, a good zookeeper often gets bitten in the line of duty.” 

“No offense, Howard, but it looks really awful,” Vince said. Having been raised in the jungle, and being best friends with Howard (who all the animals hated), Vince had seen his fair share of bites, scratches, and other animal-related injuries. This bite _ did _look nasty. It was deeper than Vince would have liked, and larger, too. “Where did you get that, anyway?”

Howard’s eyes darted dodgily. “I don’t know.”

It made no sense. How could Howard have forgotten how he’d come by such a gruesome bite? But Vince knew Howard well enough to know when to leave well enough alone. 

He tried a few more times in vain to get Howard to tell him what had got him, but he’d remained tight-lipped, despite Vince’s best efforts. Vince decided to let it go, for now, especially when Howard agreed to let him tend to the wound. Howard so rarely permitted physical contact that Vince hungrily lapped up any opportunity, which is how he found himself bandaging and cleaning the unsettling wound as Howard sat in just his green work trousers and a vest. 

Howard let Vince fuss over him a bit. But strangely enough, he’d been telling the truth when he’d said that it didn’t hurt.

“Whatever,” Howard scoffed. “The animals bite me all the time.”

“It’s true,” Vince admitted, sticking a plaster to Howard’s skin. Howard did get bitten rather often for someone professionally trained to handle large, dangerous animals. “You’ve had more rabies shots than anyone I know.”

“We can’t all be Mowgli in flares,” said Howard ruefully, a playful smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Vince smiled back, fingers lingering on Howard’s bare shoulder, as he finished patching Howard up. 

In spite of the gruesome bite, Howard felt _ great _. He felt strong: shoveling dung had been easier than usual, even if he’d not slept much the night before. He’d even helped dig a new pond for the tortoises, and his shoulders didn’t even ache. 

Gruesome as the bite was, it healed remarkably quickly. Three days after having been bitten by the weird wolf, only a faint red semi-circle remained.

In hindsight, it would be easy to recognize that something wasn’t right. But Howard merely attributed the quick healing to his general good health, although to be honest, he hadn’t changed his habits. He still ate too much Pot Noodle and drank too much tea for that. It was curious, but Howard didn’t bother questioning it.

Unfortunately, Howard should have known better. Good things didn’t happen to Howard Moon. And when they did, well, it wasn’t very long before they all went to shit. 

Vince kept an eye on Howard, suspicious of the bite mark that had healed so quickly, despite looking so malignant when it first appeared. Howard did seem to be doing well: his physical activity had increased, if anything, he was sleeping well at night, his color was good. Vince had even snuck a thermometer under Howard’s tongue while he slept, and he wasn’t running a fever. Still, Vince couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t _ right. _

For one thing, Howard’s hair had been growing at an alarming rate. Usually, Vince only needed to midnight barber Howard once every 12 weeks or so. In this month alone, he’d had to prop him up against the pillows and go at him three times already, which was _ unheard _of. Howard, who prided himself on his moustache, the moustache that had taken an entire year to grow in, had started to shave twice a day to keep his five o’clock shadow from turning his moustache into a beard. And Vince, who was preternaturally obsessed with all things related to personal grooming, had noticed. 

Then there was the way Howard had started smelling things. Usually, Howard couldn’t tell the difference between a peach and an orange by smell alone. But lately, not only had Howard begun identifying the different fruits and vegetables in the many deliveries the Zooniverse received by smell alone, Howard had made comments noting the difference between cedar and pine mulch in the animal enclosures. Maybe Vince was imagining it (or wishing for it, more like), but he could’ve sworn he’d noticed Howard leaning in and _ sniffing him. _Smelling his hair. Vince would have taken the piss out of Howard for that, except it made Vince uneasy. Something was definitely amiss. 

And worst of all, just the other night, Howard had come home with a takeaway box. It wasn’t pad Thai or Indian so Vince wasn’t interested, paying no mind until Howard opened the box to reveal a massive steak, rare, and dripping with red juices. Vince was nearly sick as memories of Jahooli feasting on raw meat raced through his mind. He’d excused himself and gone and had a good chat with Macy the sloth about it. 

The night air and Macy’s slow, drawling advice had calmed him down enough that he figured it was safe to return to the hut. When he got back, Howard was watching the telly, all signs of the nearly-raw meat long gone. Vince’s stomach flipped when he imagined Howard eating it, but he tried his best to put the thoughts out of his mind and curled up on the sofa next to Howard, who Vince felt he trusted a bit less that night. 

Exactly four weeks later, Howard’s good fortune--and his good health--came to an abrupt stop.

He was cranky, irritable from the moment he woke up, thirsty and tired and his whole body ached with a pain that was bone-deep. The closest thing Howard had ever felt was growing pains--when he was fifteen he’d grown six inches in a year--but _ this _ was unlike anything he’d ever felt before--almost as though his skeleton were _ rearranging _ itself. 

Howard rolled over in bed and groaned. At least he was on nightwatch again tonight--hopefully he would be able to sleep it off in time to make it to work. So Howard pulled the blanket over his head and proceeded to do just that.

Unfortunately, Howard didn’t feel any better when he woke up--he felt _ worse _.

He groaned, dragging himself upright to lean against the ancient wooden headboard of his bed. The effort drained him, and he reached for his phone.

“Fossil....? Yeah, I can’t work nightwatch tonight, I think I have the avian pox that was going around last week...”

Howard could hear Fossil's jaw grinding over the phone. “If you call out tonight, Moon, I will personally castrate you and make you call me ‘mommy’ while I do it.”

Howard groaned and looked at the clock. It was only four o’clock--he still had a couple of hours before he had to be at work. Perhaps a shower would help...

“Well, you look terrible,” Vince said, eyeing the bedraggled, red-eyed Howard who’d finally shown up at the Zooniverse nearly an hour late.

“I feel terrible,” Howard admitted. “I think I’m coming down with a case of the avian pox…” He wiped the sweat from his clammy brow. “You should probably get away from me.”

“Nah, I already had a case of avian pox when I was a kid. It’s like chicken pox, you know, you get it once and you’re immune. Pakhi the pelican came down with a case, and I’d eaten a fish from his beak the day before...”

Howard shuddered. He was already feeling ill enough without having to listen to Vince talk about the culinary delights of the jungle, which were disgusting even when Howard wasn’t feeling like his insides were being rearranged.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to worry about infecting me, I’ll be fine!”

Despite Vince’s reassurances, Howard wasn’t so sure. 

“You, though... Do you really think you should be out here?” Vince asked, his voice lowering seriously. “You don’t look at all well. You sure you don’t want to take a kip? I’ll cover for you, if anyone asks.” 

“I’m fine,” Howard tried to say, but the noise that escaped his mouth sounded nothing like that.

It didn’t sound like anything human at all. 

Vince stood stock-still, his eyes brimming over with concern.

Howard cleared his throat, feeling sheepish. “I’m fine,” he repeated, and this time, he sounded more like himself.

“Are you sure? You sounded really sick there,” Vince said, looking unconvinced of Howard’s health, but he didn’t try to stop Howard from coming along on patrol.

Howard was thankful. As tired and achy as he was, he was feeling anxious being inside the hut. The idea of being inside was strangely uncomfortable for him. The sky soothed him, somehow, easing the uncomfortable feeling in both his mind and body. 

It was dusk, not-quite night, the sky still streaked with pink. Though night had not yet fallen, the Zooniverse was empty, save for the two zookeepers and the animals. 

The Zooniverse was always quite uncanny after hours, when the crowds and staff all went home for the night. The Zooniverse after hours existed in a strange liminal space, one where the animals were king.

Howard had always loved the Zooniverse best in those moments. The animals might have been king, but Howard was their keeper. 

Vince and Howard made their rounds, slowly and quietly, which was unusual. Vince usually chattered during their entire patrol, greeting the animals and spouting every idea he had as soon as it came into his head, but tonight, as if unwilling to cause Howard any discomfort, he was mostly quiet. 

Strangely, as ill as Howard was feeling, his senses felt sharper than ever. He could hear every little sound from the enclosures, the rustling of leaves, the chatter of the chimps, even the slithering of the snakes. It was like hearing in 3D.

Vince stumbled in his ridiculous shoes, and Howard reached an arm out to steady him. Vince huddled into his side momentarily, just close enough that his hair brushed Howard’s nose.

Vince’s scent was at once familiar and strange--familiar because it was _ Vince, _ strange because it was so much _ stronger _ than Howard remembered. Underneath the smells of candyfloss and hay and zoo was something else, something Howard thought might be the smell of Vince’s skin itself--musky, salty, and warm.

Forgetting himself, Howard leaned in, his nose brushing the skin of Vince’s neck, and inhaled so hard his nostrils flared.

Vince jumped back, looking at Howard with a startled expression. 

Vince couldn’t explain why he’d jumped. He’d fantasized for years about this moment, but now that it was happening, everything felt... wrong. 

Likely Howard was too addled by fever to be in his right mind. There was no other reasonable explanation for his behavior--Howard never took sick days if he could help it, convinced that working while ill and potentially infecting the whole zoo was more manly or something. 

The sun slipped below the horizon, casting Howard’s face in shadows which deepened the bags under his eyes and elongated the line of his nose. He looked, Vince considered, absolutely _ wolfish _.

“Sorry, Howard,” Vince apologized. “I know I’ve already had avian pox, but you really don’t look well.”

“Thanks, Vince,” Howard said sarcastically, shoving his hands into the pockets of his filthy green jacket. “That’s very... kind... of you to notice.”

Vince was about to say something smart, but suddenly Howard shuddered, nearly collapsing where he stood. At the last moment, he managed to grab onto a bench to steady himself. 

“Howard!” Vince shouted. “What’s wrong?”

Avian pox be damned, he rushed to Howard’s side, helping Howard ease himself onto the bench. Howard crumpled onto the bench, his body a knot of anguish.

“I don’t know!” he gasped between gritted teeth. That bone-deep ache had turned into a searing, bone-deep _ pain. _ Howard’s nerves were singing with it--well, if nerves sang with the voice of Yoko Ono. 

Vince looked down at him, biting his lip in concern. Sick as he was, Howard couldn’t help but notice the way the milky moonlight highlighted Vince’s face, lighting his eyes and kissing his cheekbones, the way Howard wished he could…

_ Where did that come from? _Howard wondered to himself. 

Vince prattled on, concerned ramblings and inane questions, but Howard couldn’t focus on the words, couldn’t make sense of them. All he could do was marvel at how well-structured Vince’s confusing face was, how sweet he smelled in the night air, and seek out the moonlight, which soothed the strange discomfort in his body, like calamine lotion on an itch. 

He drifted from Vince, who was mid-sentence, and stood, gazing up at the moon. All at once, he collapsed, his bones turning to wet paper within him, and he heard Vince cry his name, and then everything _ changed. _

Vince’s mind was whirling. In the space of just ten minutes, a lot had happened. First, Howard was _ definitely _ not okay. He’d seemed feverish and ill, clammy and sweaty, his hands shaking slightly, his eyes glassy. Vince was cursing himself for not forcing Howard to get a rabies vaccine before, and then Howard had done _ that-- _ positively nuzzled into his neck. And breathed. The inhalation had shot through Vince like liquid fire, blazing straight from his sensitive throat to his cock. He was embarrassed, but that small amount of contact had given him a semi. Then he felt bad all over again, because poor Howard was clearly out of his mind with illness, whatever it was, and how gross was _ he _, Vince, for perving on his best mate at a time like this?

Then, Howard had collapsed, and a very real and terrible panic swept over Vince. He could handle anything life threw at him, as long as Howard was beside him. Left on his own, however, Vince had panicked. He rambled at Howard, trying to get him to stay conscious, to get him stable enough that Vince could go get help. But as he watched, Howard’s eyes flitted between his own and the moon, which hung fat and white in the cloudless sky. The moonlight reflected in Howard’s little eyes, brightening them, and then all at once, Howard crumpled, folding in on himself like origami. 

Vince watched in horror, helpless to do anything but stand there and _ watch. _Howard’s bones seemed to shift and rearrange themselves, his face lengthening, his limbs stretching, fingers curling into claws. 

It was all so grotesque that Vince squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the horrible sight of his best friend _ transforming _ into something.

When he finally opened his eyes, Howard was nowhere to be seen. Instead, on the bench, in the very place Howard had been sitting, was a _ wolf _.

Now, Vince was not only a professionally-trained zookeeper: he also had a natural affinity with animals, honed by his jungle childhood. Yet this wolf was unlike any other.

The creature was, undeniably, a wolf. It had a wolf’s fur, a tawny brindle of black, brown, and white that blended into something Howard would have called an anguished hazelnut. It had a wolf’s shaggy tail and long snout and sharp, gleaming canines.

But its eyes burned with a brightness, and _ intelligence, _ that was unmistakably, uncannily _ human _.

Vince knew those eyes--they were _ Howard’s _ eyes. He’d spent most of his life gazing into them. As wolflike as the creature before him appeared, Vince was certain that Howard was inside there, somewhere.

“Howard?” he called, tentatively.

The wolf immediately turned to face Vince as though recognizing the name, wagging its tail and cocking its head in an expectant gesture that was so completely Howard-esque that Vince shuddered. 

A flash of light caught Vince’s eye. He turned to face the sky, searching for the source of the light--the moon, round and full and hanging low in the sky, had emerged from behind a cloud, bathing the entire uncanny scene in pale, ghostly light.

_ The moon was full _ . All of a sudden, Vince’s mind-tank whirred to life with a wheeze of machinery that had long been disused. The night he’d asked Howard to cover for him during nightwatch, the night Howard had been bitten by the mysterious wolf, that grotesque bite that had healed within day--the moon had been full _ that _ night...

The wolf, as if sensing the direction Vince’s thoughts had turned, _ grinned _. Its teeth gleamed in the silvery moonlight, and it charged--

In a blind panic, Vince retrieved the enchanted whistle Naboo had given him (the one that would immediately summon Naboo and his gorilla familiar, Bollo, with the strictest instructions to only use it in an emergency) from his pocket, brought it to his lips, and _ blew _.

The wolf immediately whimpered and collapsed on the ground, pawing at its ears as though trying to rub the sound away.

Vince was still watching the Howard-wolf, his instincts fighting to either soothe Howard or stay away from him in fear, when Naboo appeared, quickly followed by his familiar, Bollo. 

The shaman’s eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and he gazed around the Zooniverse stonedly, as if trying to make sense of his surroundings.

“Whoa, Bollo,” Naboo said, “I don’t think I should have eaten that last eighth of mushrooms. I’m hallucinating that I’m in the Zooniverse... this is gonna be a bad, bad trip.”

“Naboo not hallucinating,” Bollo groaned, shaking his head. “We _ are _ in Zooniverse.”

Naboo’s spine straightened and his heavy, marijuana-lidded eyes popped open in alarm. “What the fuck? How did we get here?” 

“Ummm...” Vince said, dangling the whistle from his fingers guiltily. 

Naboo’s eyes narrowed into an expression of pure vitriol. “I _ told _you only to use that whistle in an emergency.”

“This _ is _ an emergency!” Vince explained. “You see that wolf? That wolf--”

Naboo rolled his eyes. “So you’ve got a rogue wolf. That doesn’t explain why you called _ me _ to help you get it back into its cage with all the other wolves...” He eyed Vince suspiciously, and Vince couldn’t help but look guilty. “Why don’t you call Howard to help you? Isn’t he supposed to be on nightwatch with you?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Vince shouted, pointing a finger towards the wolf, which was sniffing the air. “That wolf--is _ Howard!” _

Naboo eyed the rusted-umber wolf, then he eyed Vince. “So what? Your boyfriend’s a werewolf. Nothing about this is an emergency.”

Howard-wolf growled a little, low in the back of his throat, as though he understood Naboo and disagreed. Vince found himself agreeing with Howard--this was _ definitely _an emergency. 

“First of all, Howard is _ not _ my boyfriend,” Vince protested. “You don’t understand--”

“There’s nothing you can do for him, other than keep him hydrated and take him out to chase the moonlight,” Naboo advised. “Maybe find a couple of sticks and play fetch for a bit.”

Howard perked up at the mention of _ fetch _ . He stared at Vince, his brown eyes molten and, Vince had to admit, _ cute _. Vince had always wanted a dog, but figured he’d have to wait until he had a flat with a fenced area for it to play in. Now, he had a dog… sort of. Vince sighed--as fun as playing fetch might be, Vince reminded himself of the situation at hand. 

“But Naboo,” he whined. “Howard’s not a regular wolf. He’s a _ werewolf _. Is he safe? What happens if he bites me? Won’t he want to eat people? What if--”

Naboo gazed down at the Howard-wolf, who was wagging his tail and staring at Vince with puppydog eyes. “You’ll be fine.” He stared at Vince, his stoned eyes widening as a thought occurred to him. “What are you afraid of? You can talk to animals. Just tell Howard not to eat you or anyone else. He’s a stupid human, but maybe he’s less of an idiot as a wolf.”

Howard-wolf growled again, baring his sharp teeth at the tiny shaman. 

“D’you hear that, Howard?” asked Vince, patting the wolf’s head. “Naboo doesn’t think you’re too bright. We’ll show him, though, won’t we?” Already, Vince’s mind was racing with rose-colored visions of training Howard to be the best hunting and agility dog in England. 

Howard barked in agreement. His tongue lolled dumbly out of his mouth as he gazed worshipfully, but stupidly, at Vince, and Naboo pinched the bridge of his nose. Vince would soon learn the folly of trying to train Howard, but for now, Naboo’s work was nearly done. “Whatever,” he muttered. “Just don’t let him bite you or mate you while the moon is full and you’ll be fine.”

“Wait--_ mate _ me?” Vince asked, voice ringing with disbelief.

“Well, Howard’s animal instincts are stronger than usual,” Naboo said. "That includes his sex drive."

“I feel like I keep saying this,” Vince said, “but Howard is _ not _ my boyfriend.”

Wolf-Howard made a pathetic little sound that was more a whine than anything else.

Naboo rolled his eyes. “Next time,” he griped, “save the whistle for a REAL emergency! Or else I’ll curse it to summon a pink tentacled alien menace with a barbed multihexagonal penis and a lust for poppers.”

With that, Naboo made a complicated hand movement that caused the sleeves of his robe to billow dramatically, all the while muttering words in an otherworldly tongue. He and Bollo were enveloped in a purple cloud of smoke; when it evaporated, neither shaman nor gorilla were visible.

“Well, Howard,” Vince said, “I guess it’s just you and me.”

The wolf rubbed its snout on Vince’s thigh affectionately. Vince scratched him behind the ears; Howard leaned into it, like an eager puppy. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Howard,” Vince murmured.

At the mention of _ good boy _, Howard’s ears perked up. He headbutted Vince’s arm in a demand for more ear-skritches, which Vince was happy to oblige. 

But he couldn’t sit here and pet Howard all night. And so Vince, being a responsible zookeeper, did what he thought would be best for Howard-who-was-a-wolf: he took him to the wolf enclosure. He was pleased to discover that Howard followed him around like, well, a dog, a particularly obedient one at that, wagging his tail and looking at Vince expectantly, as though he was going to produce a pocketful of treats or a ball. Though he’d been nervous to have been left alone with a werewolf on the night of the full moon, Vince’s nerves melted away seeing how amiable Howard-wolf was, and once again his mind raced with dreamlike images of he and his new pet, who also happened to be his best friend and direct supervisor at work. 

Once they reached the enclosure, Howard bounded ahead of Vince, sticking his snout right up against the glass and snuffling. “S’alright, Howard,” said Vince as he unlocked the enclosure. “You’re gonna get in there and have a blast with all the other wolves.” Howard’s bushy tail wagged happily. Vince guided them inside as another wolf, significantly smaller than Howard but still the pack’s alpha, Ares, approached. He sniffed Howard’s neck, scenting him, then shot a disgusted yellow-eyed look at Vince. 

_ This smells like that ballbag zookeeper, Howard, _Ares said to Vince.

“In a way, it _ is _Howard,” said Vince, replying to the wolf aloud. 

_ We hate Howard, _said the wolf. 

“Well, he’s a wolf now, too,” Vince explained, “so can’t you try and be nice?”

_ No. _The gray wolf turned to return to the pack, but not before Howard bounded eagerly after, using his size to his advantage as he mounted Ares and began humping vigorously. 

_ Goddammit, Vince! _ snarled Ares. _ I _ ** _knew _ ** _ Howard was an animal bummer! Get him off! _

Vince was shocked by Howard’s behavior, cheeks coloring with shame. “Howard. Howard! Stop that right now, Howard! Bad boy, Howard! Bad!” Howard showed no signs of stopping. 

Though Howard had the size advantage, Ares had the benefit of actually being a wolf, and turned, snapping at Howard’s neck, his teeth bared aggressively, a terrifying, snarling growl at the back of its throat. Howard whimpered and lowered himself to the ground in a clear sign of submission, baring his neck and belly to the alpha wolf. Vince could almost hear him whine, “Don’t kill me, I’ve got so much to give!” 

“Sorry, Ares,” said Vince apologetically as he helped Howard up and led him back towards the entrance of the enclosure. Ares stood, hackles still raised, long teeth flashing in the moonlight. He backed away, making sure the threat was gone before returning to his pack. 

Howard seemed saddened by having been rejected by the wolf pack, though perhaps Vince was just projecting. “Come on, Howard,” he said, after checking to make sure Howard-wolf hadn’t been harmed in the scuffle. “We’ll go play fetch, yeah? It’ll be genius.” 

The walk back to the keeper’s hut took longer than usual, with Howard stopping every few feet to sniff something interesting. Vince trailed behind, not paying much attention to what Howard was doing as he daydreamed about all the games he and Howard could play together as boy and wolf. He was so distracted that he almost didn’t notice that Howard-wolf was urinating on Bob Fossil’s work boots, which Fossil always removed before entering his office (he claimed it was because this was etiquette he’d picked up in ‘Nam, but Vince knew it was because he liked to slide around the hardwood floors in just his socks). 

“Howard, no!” scolded Vince. But Howard-wolf just looked up at Vince goofily, almost grinning. Vince couldn’t help but smile back. “Go on, boy,” he said. “Do the other one.” Howard-wolf lifted his leg and complied happily while Vince giggled at the thought of Fossil discovering his boots had been pissed on the next morning, preferably _ after _ he’d put them on. “Good boy,” Vince praised, unable to keep the chuckle out of his voice. Howard-wolf positively _ grinned _, pleased with himself, pleased that Vince was pleased.

Howard, Vince considered, was a good friend, whether man or wolf. Vince’s _ best _ friend. 

Just as he was about to say so, however, Howard was distracted by a raccoon rooting through one of the rubbish bins. He lurched away from Vince’s touch, obviously tracking the animal.

Well, Vince thought, it _ was _ late, and Howard _ had _ turned into a wolf; he was certain to have worked up an appetite. “C’mon, Howard,” Vince said, calling for Howard as he made his way to the keeper’s hut. 

Howard abandoned his prey to follow Vince obediently, and Vince felt a surge of pride. Howard really was a good boy, and he told him so, and smiled when Howard made a self-satisfied little wiggle at the praise. 

Once he and Howard reached the keeper’s hut, Vince rummaged through the refrigerator and threw some leftover takeaway into a bowl for Howard to eat. He gobbled it down cold, so Vince continued to feed him whatever else he could find in the small kitchen: some bananas, a carrot, and an expired carton of yoghurt, all of which Howard gobbled down with the same enthusiasm.

While Howard was busy eating, Vince went and got his secret stash of chocolates out from under the sofa--he wasn’t sure if chocolate made werewolves sick, but it certainly made regular wolves sick, and Vince didn’t want to accidentally poison his best friend while said best friend was in wolf form. He locked the chocolate safely in a cabinet, and then went over to his craft supplies. 

Ever creative, Vince fashioned a collar out of some scrap fabric, and even managed to write “HOWARD. PLZ RETURN 2 VINCE NOIR, ROCK N’ ROLL STAR. THE ZOONIVERSE” on it. As Howard noisily slurped up the contents of his bowl, finishing his massive dinner, Vince slipped the collar around his neck. “There ya go, boy,” he said, petting Howard’s head. “Now you’re a proper dog! And if you get lost, whoever finds you will know to bring you back to me.” He scratched Howard behind the ears, who leaned into his touch with his eyes closed in bliss. “Such a good boy, Howard,” Vince said, his voice low with affection. Vince gave him one last skritch, then tugged Howard’s ear gently. “Let’s go play fetch!” Howard woofed in agreement. 

Much to Vince’s dismay, Howard-as-a-wolf was just as bad at athletics as Howard-as-a-man. Every time Vince threw the ball, Howard would return with something else--an old shoe, a small tree branch, even a garden gnome. Howard was so pleased with himself, however, that Vince couldn’t find it within himself to scold the poor man-cum-wolf. He just heaped praise on Howard, telling him he was a good boy, and scratching behind his ears, making Howard’s tongue loll and his tail wag happily. 

While human Howard tended toward sloth, as a wolf, Howard seemed to have endless energy. He jumped and yapped and chased, showing no sign of exhaustion. Vince, however, caught himself yawning. He’d worked all day, had experienced the stress of watching Howard change into a werewolf, and then spent most of the night playing with Howard-wolf. He needed some sleep, and soon...

The feeling of a sloppy, wet tongue on his hand woke him from his half-asleep state. Remembering Naboo’s warning not to let Howard eat him, Vince’s first instinct was to panic--he shrieked a little, yanking his hand back from the curious Howard-wolf as though he’d been burned by a hot stove. Giggling nervously, he said, “Sorry, Howard, thought you were havin’ a taste of me, that’s all.” Howard stared blankly at Vince. “Let’s go back to the hut, yeah? Might be time for bed.” 

Vince moved a blanket and one of the cushions from the couch onto the floor, doing his best to arrange them comfortably into something vaguely resembling a dog bed. “There you are, Howard,” he said, patting the makeshift bed. “Should be nice and comfy for you. And there’s water, too, if you get thirsty in the night.” Howard-wolf just stared at Vince with familiar yet vacant eyes. It made Vince feel a little uncomfortable--he still wasn’t sure how much Howard-wolf understood, or how much of Howard was in there. Feeling shy, he stepped into the outhouse to change into his pyjamas, not wanting to do so in front of Howard. Or the wolf. Whatever. 

When he returned to the zookeeper’s hut, he found Howard-wolf curled up at the foot of his sleeping bag. Vince grinned. “Howard,” he said. “That’s my sleeping bag. You can sleep on the bed I made you.” For emphasis, he patted the bed. Howard refused to move. “Howard,” Vince said, more sternly. “You have to sleep over here.” Howard still didn’t budge. Shrugging, Vince decided he was too sleepy to argue with Howard-wolf. He crawled into the sleeping bag, and Howard positioned himself alongside, the wolf’s body large and warm against him.

Vince cuddled against the Howard-wolf, and the Howard-wolf cuddled back. As much as human Howard protested “don’t touch me”, Howard-_ wolf _ was accepting of affection. 

And Howard-wolf was _ good _ at cuddling--he was warm and soft, his thick fur deceptively silky to the touch. Vince figured he had a few _ years’ _ worth of cuddling to catch up on: Howard hadn’t _ always _ been touch-averse, but it had been nearly a _ decade _ since Vince had been able to freely sprinkle affection on his best friend. 

Underneath the fuzzy, feral scent of the wolf, Vince caught a whiff of tea and old books, a scent he immediately identified as _ Howard _. He buried his face in the back of Howard’s neck, slinging an arm over the wolf’s shoulders, comforted by the warm, furry body against his own. Howard-wolf grumbled and grunted in his sleep, sounding just as content as Vince felt, snuggling together on top of their sleeping bags. 

As the man and wolf drifted into sleep, Vince’s hand lazily slipped down to Howard-wolf’s belly. Half asleep, he did not hear the warning growl, and an instant later, Howard-wolf’s teeth sank into the skin of his forearm in a warning nip.

Vince shot up, horrified to realize Howard-wolf had broken the skin of his hand. Panic flooded him for a moment.

The moon, still full, spilled in through the window of the keeper hut. 

“Oh dear,” Vince said. And then he _ changed _.

Howard came to the next morning in the middle of an inexplicable mess. The keeper hut was, for lack of a better word, ransacked. Furniture had been overturned. The feather remains of a pillow were sprinkled around the floor. Even more inexplicable was the fact that Howard was naked, with an equally-nude Vince sleeping, softly snoring and draped bonelessly over the mess in an artful sprawl that was so typically _ Vince _ that it made Howard’s chest ache.

Howard took a moment to appreciate Vince’s nakedness, taking advantage of Vince’s slumbering state to sneak a peek of the penis draped over Vince’s surprisingly-hairy thigh.

While Howard was busy ogling Vince, Vince stretched and stirred, his blue eyes flickering open. They seemed to lock onto Howard immediately, and Vince’s face lit up with a sleepy smile.

The night blurred together in a string of incomprehensible images, flashes of scent and sound that made only the barest amount of sense. 

Had he really--had he really let Vince _ pet _ him, like an affectionate dog? Howard shuddered, his cheeks heating with the shame of it. If a man of action such as himself were turned into a werewolf, he could become a vicious, fearless beast, yet Howard had turned into an affectionate puppy, not a ferocious wolf.

“‘Morning, you lupine Lothario,” said Vince, grinning cheekily at Howard. 

Howard’s cheeks reddened even deeper. “What--that is, I mean--erm--”

“Don’t act like you don’t remember,” said Vince, stretching languorously. “Last night, we was having a snuggle when you up and bit me, and well… then things got _ interesting.” _

Howard vaguely remembered, as though in a dream, a slighter, golden-colored wolf vigorously humping his own brown wolf form. 

“Oh no,” he whined pathetically. 

“Oh _ yes _,” grinned Vince wolfishly. “You certainly didn’t seem to mind last night. Reckon you wouldn’t mind too much now.” He pointed a glance at Howard’s penis, his nudity doing nothing to obscure the erection stiffening between his legs. 

Shame coursed through Howard, hot and uncomfortable, and he turned away from Vince, as though not being able to see Vince would make him invisible. Before he could exit the keeper’s hut, he felt arms encircling him from behind. 

“I rather liked it,” whispered Vince dangerously, licking the shell of Howard’s ear before pressing his beaky nose into Howard’s throat and inhaling, scenting him like he’d done under the full moon last night. 

That one feral move was all it took. A switch went off in Howard’s head, and though he remained human in body, the wolf took control of his mind. He turned quickly, nipping at Vince’s neck and forcing him down onto the wreckage of sleeping bags and pillows on the keeper hut floor. 

Vince rolled belly-up, prone and smiling goofily. The penis Howard had been admiring earlier looked suspiciously thick, lolling between Vince’s legs lazily. Giving into his curiosity, Howard buried his face between Vince’s legs. 

Vince’s pubic hair was coarse and crinkly, fragrant with sweat and musk. The scent was strong but not unpleasant, and it made Howard’s mouth water.

He took another deep breath, nuzzling the base of Vince’s cock, feeling it fill with blood and stiffen against his chin. Vince let out a noise that sounded like a growl, nudging his cock against Howard’s chin.

Howard froze, earlier bravado forgotten. He’d never given--or received--oral sex before. In fact, he’d never had any kind of sex, and he was at a loss for how to proceed.

But Vince, still reeling with the wolf, didn’t hesitate. He gently gripped Howard at the back of his neck, leading him over to the couch, where Vince sat down, spreading his legs before guiding Howard to kneel between his legs.

Howard opened his mouth, unsure what to do. He looked up at Vince, a question in his eyes.

Howard’s pink tongue peeked eagerly between his lips. Vince grabbed his cock at the base, tracing the shape of Howard’s lips with his cockhead, Howard’s moustache prickling at the sensitive flesh. It made Vince’s prick leak and leave a smear of precum on Howard’s bottom lip.

The sight excited him. He tapped his cock against the tip of Howard’s tongue, feeling Howard hesitantly lap at it. Another drop of precum dribbled from his cockhead, this time, directly onto Howard’s tongue. 

Howard pulled back, swallowed, and then opened his mouth to lap another drop of Vince’s precum into his mouth. Feeling braver this time, he closed his lips around Vince’s cock, careful to avoid scraping the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

Vince nudged his cock a bit deeper into Howard’s throat. At first, Howard sputtered, drawing back, but he quickly relaxed, letting Vince back in.

“Good boy,” Vince murmured, and he _ swore _ he could see Howard’s ears perk with the endearment. “Such a good, obedient boy.”

Howard might have been useless at fetch, but he was _ genius _ at sucking cock, his mouth so wet and soft and warm, lax and open and waiting to be fucked.

And Vince _ was _ going to fuck Howard’s mouth.

He laced his fingers into Howard’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp as Howard held him gently in his mouth. Vince yanked Howard’s head back experimentally, then forward, forcing more of his cock into Howard’s waiting mouth, murmuring _ good boy _ the whole time. Howard moaned around Vince’s cock, and Vince tugged his hair harder, watching the answering shiver shake through Howard’s kneeling form.

Still holding his cock by the base, Vince eased himself deeper, watching Howard’s jaw strain to accept him. His thumb grazed Howard’s lower lip; Howard’s mouth and chin was smeared with saliva, and Vince’s cock jumped. He let go of his erection, easing the last bit into Howard’s mouth by gently tugging Howard’s hair.

Howard ran his tongue along the underside of Vince’s cock, reminding himself to breathe through his nose to avoid gagging. Vince moaned, pulling gently on Howard’s hair again, and an electric current flowed from Howard’s scalp to the prick throbbing between his legs.

The sensation surprised him--Howard had not previously considered his scalp to be particularly erotic. Unlike Vince, Howard rarely thought about his hair. Yet, the feeling of Vince pulling Howard’s hair was just as sexy as the feeling of Vince’s cock in Howard’s mouth.

Howard slurped on Vince’s cock and worked a hand between his legs, trying to match the rhythm of his hand on his cock to Vince’s thrusts in and out of his mouth. He felt a surge of pride at seeing Vince fall apart, from the way Vince was pulling on his hair, the way Vince was taking his pleasure from _ Howard _ himself.

Vince’s eyes were closed in bliss. He was focused on nothing but the feel of Howard’s soft curls between his fingers, Howard’s mouth around his cock, the way the head would occasionally nudge at the back of Howard’s throat. Howard was so taking him so well, Vince thought, his perfect submission arousing a dominant side of which Vince had been previously unaware. He yanked Howard’s hair a bit more roughly, pulling Howard’s mouth back, then forward, adrift in a haze of pleasure. 

Suddenly, Howard choked, pulling off of Vince’s cock completely, and Vince opened his eyes to make sure that he hadn’t been too rough and hurt Howard by accident. 

Howard’s eyes were watering, but otherwise, he appeared fine. Vince did, however, notice that Howard had a hand between his legs, wanking himself.

The sight made Vince release a low, possessive growl--_ he _ wanted to be the one to make Howard come--and Howard looked up at him, startled, an expression of uncertainty on his face. 

“You’ve been so good,” Vince said, his voice coming out low and rough. “But did I say you could touch yourself?” 

Howard flushed and yanked his hand off his erection, whining high in throat as he let go. His cock bobbed between his legs, so hard and so desperate. Vince could see exactly how badly Howard needed to come, and a strange, possessive emotion surged in Vince’s chest--_ he _ would be the one to make Howard come, no one else, not even Howard himself.

“But then you just _ had _ to touch yourself,” Vince breathed. Howard whined and shook his head, looking desperate; the sight made Vince’s cock throb. “Good boys don’t do that. Not without _ permission _.”

“Please,” Howard begged, too far gone to be ashamed of the plaintive note in his voice. “Please, let me, I’ll be good, I promise--”

“Suck me,” Vince said. “And if you’re good, _ then _ you can come. When I say so.”

Howard didn’t say a thing. He didn’t have to--he opened his mouth instead. 

Vince’s cock pulsed, and he wrapped a hand around the base, squeezing gently, soothingly. He moved his other hand to Howard’s jaw, stroking the hollow between his cheekbones and jaw, easing Howard’s mouth open. “We’ll see,” he said, “we’ll see...”

This time, Vince didn’t bother teasing--he pushed his prick into Howard’s open mouth, holding Howard’s jaw open until his cockhead grazed the back of Howard’s throat. Vince released his hold on his prick and felt Howard start to gag, then relax his muscles, his easy submission exciting Vince even more.

He released Howard’s throat, sliding his hand back to tug on Howard’s hair. His curls were wildly askew, making him resemble nothing so much as a shaggy dog. Vince thought back to the night before, after Howard had bit him, when the two of them had pranced and chased each other around the keeper hut in a complicated game, its rules known only to the wolf, that had culminated in Vince humping Howard until both werewolves had slumped, sated, into the pile of sleeping bags and torn pillows littering the floor. 

_ That _ had been _ genius _ . But fucking Howard’s mouth--that was like, _ super genius _. 

Vince concentrated on his task, thrusting his hips in time with pulling Howard’s head forward and back. Howard looked up at him so sweetly, his brown eyes wide and full of trust and adoration, and that was it--Vince felt the telltale tightness in his balls, the throb at the base of his dick that meant he would be coming any moment.

He tried to warn Howard, but the words came out as a string of garbled nonsense. Desperate, he pulled at Howard’s head, but the Howard tightened his lips around Vince’s prick and _ sucked _, and it was all over--Vince was coming, coming, coming, into the wet heat of Howard’s mouth...

Howard sucked and sputtered, finally releasing Vince’s cock from his mouth. A trail of cum and saliva leaked out from between his lips along with Vince’s softening prick, dribbling onto his chin and into his moustache. 

Panting, Vince looked down at Howard, whose lips were red and swollen and covered in Vince’s cum, and felt a rush of affection. “Oh, Howard,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to stroke Howard’s hair affectionately, “that was so good, you’re so, so good...”

“I was good?” Howard said eagerly. He wrapped his arms around Vince’s waist, nuzzling his belly. The change in position made his erection nudge against Vince’s hairy calf, reminding Vince that Howard hadn’t yet come.

“Such a good boy,” Vince said. He put his hands on Howard’s shoulders, gently nudging him to lie back as Vince slid off the couch and onto the pile of blankets on the keeper’s hut floor. 

He gave Howard one last lingering, appreciative look, paying special attention to the hard cock between Howard’s legs. That jealous feeling surged inside of him again, the need to make Howard writhe and _ howl _ with pleasure...

Vince let the whole weight of his body drape over Howard’s. It took some angling to compensate for their height difference, but finally Vince was leaning over Howard’s face, bracing his elbows on either side of Howard’s head. Howard’s chin and moustache were still streaked with white from Vince’s cum, and Vince growled.

He could see fear flash across Howard’s eyes, could see the moment the fear melted into an expression that was soft and warm but most of all so utterly _ trusting _ that Vince, still feeling the lingering influence of the wolf, wanted nothing more than to be kind to Howard, to show him his trust was not misplaced.

Vince titled his head, bringing their mouths together. He tasted himself in the sharp tang of cum on Howard’s lips, but he could taste _ Howard _ too, tea leaves and tobacco, all things that were good.

Vince flicked his tongue against Howard’s moustache, at first to tease but then, he began licking Howard’s cheeks, his chin, laving his drying semen from Howard’s face. Howard’s lay still and hopeful, his breath started to come in pants as Vince licked him clean.

Howard lay shaking, still so turned on but unsure what was to come next. Vince’s gentle licks soothed him--the irony that Vince was licking his own cum off Howard’s face was soothing him did not escape Howard. He felt a pang of shame, for being so passively inexperienced, and, as if sensing Howard’s internal crisis, Vince snuffled in Howard’s ear, whispering _ shh _ as he licked and sucked a path down Howard’s neck and onto his chest.

As Vince’s mouth traveled down his throat, his hand was tracing circles on Howard’s sparsely-furred belly and thighs. Howard’s body hair was so delicate and fine, in contrast to Vince’s own coarser, darker, thicker hair. Vince loved the softness, the silky texture--it made him want to stroke Howard, pet him like a pampered puppy.

Even Howard’s pubic hair was silky and smooth. Vince carded his fingers through the curls at the base of Howard’s penis, watching his erection jump eagerly, but Vince took his time, teasing softly until Howard lost control and moaned.

Finally, Vince wrapped his hand around Howard’s cock. It felt so warm, with a pleasant weight to it, and he gave a few soft, experimental strokes, letting Howard stifle a whimper by biting into Vince’s shoulder.

The mark would probably leave a bruise, but Vince didn’t care. He released Howard’s prick, rolling over onto his side and scooting down, until he was face level with Howard’s cock and balls. On impulse, Vince buried his nose in Howard’s balls, teasing at the crinkled skin below with the tip, until Howard went still and gurgled. Then Vince licked a stripe up Howard’s prick, from the base to the tip, easing Howard’s cockhead into his mouth with his tongue.

Howard yelped and bucked his hips. Vince let an arm rest across Howard’s belly to anchor his hips down, and though Howard could easily have shrugged off Vince’s skinny arm, the gentle pressure seemed to calm him. He took a deep breath, going still, waiting for what Vince would do next.

What Vince did next was this--tighten his lips around Howard’s cock and _ suck _.

Howard’s fingers scrabbled into the sleeping bag, desperate to grasp onto something. The pleasure was indescribable--_ nothing _ like wanking, nothing at _ all _ like wanking, so much wetter and more _ intense _. At first, he tried to keep his eyes open, but he was so overwhelmed by the heat and suction and weight of Vince’s body over his that his eyes slid closed.

Vince felt Howard’s cock pulse, spilling precum into his mouth. He pulled back, releasing Howard’s cock with a _ pop _ of suction, taking a moment to stare at Howard, flushed and hard and desperate with pleasure beneath him.

The sight filled Vince with a sense of pride. The jealous thing inside him fluttered, and he dove back down to swallow Howard’s prick once more, sucking and slurping until he felt Howard’s cock pulse. Again, he pulled off Howard’s cock, letting his erection dance needfully.

This time, he didn’t start sucking again immediately. Instead, he nipped at Howard’s belly and thighs, using a hand to caress and tug at Howard’s balls, which had tensed with his need to orgasm, teasing Howard with his fingers and mouth until Howard opened his eyes.

Vince fought the urge to wink as Howard’s small, pleading brown eyes met his own. “Vince,” Howard breathed, “Vince--”

“Yeah? You want me to make you come, Howard?” Vince asked, flashing a predatory smile as he sank his teeth into the soft, gentle roll of Howard’s belly.

Howard tensed, his hands scrabbling against the mussed pile of blankets beneath him. “Vince,” he repeated, unable to say anything else, his mind nothing but a blur of sensation and need.

Vince nibbled a trail of toothy kisses down Howard’s stomach, deliberately not breaking eye contact as he sucked Howard’s needy prick into his mouth, inch by inch. Howard groaned, but he did not look away, mesmerized by the sight of his erection disappearing between Vince’s teasing lips.

When his pointy nose began to poke into Howard’s belly, Vince began to suck, no longer teasing. This time, he sucked harder, moving his mouth up and down over Howard’s prick faster, faster, rolling Howard’s balls in his hand, feeling them draw closer to his body as the prick in his mouth leaked. 

Howard was losing his mind--Vince was going to suck his mind right out of him, right through his cock... His thighs tensed, and he fought the urge to clamp his legs together, moaning with the effort of staying still. He was so, so close, but he wasn’t ready for the onslaught of pleasure to end just yet. 

Tilting his head down, Howard stubbornly ignored the crick in his neck from the unnatural angle to catch a better glimpse of Vince, his blue eyes and mouth open wide, Howard’s cock shiny with saliva as it pushed in and out of his red lips--

At that very moment, Vince looked up. Howard had never seen Vince like this, not only because he had Howard’s cock in his mouth, but because he was looking at Howard possessively, covetously, with something like _ ownership _ in his big, blue eyes. Just as he made eye contact, Vince tightened his throat, giving Howard a long, deep suck, and it was too much--Howard shouted and came, right there in Vince’s mouth.

Vince continued to slurp and suck at Howard’s cock long after he had stopped shooting, until Howard, oversensitized, begged, “Please, no more, no more, please...”

Mercifully, Vince obliged, and Howard collapsed into the pile of sheets and blankets on the floor, boneless, mindless, and overwhelmed.

Vince wiped his mouth, and lay down next to Howard, stretching his front against Howard’s side and tossing a possessive thigh over Howard’s hips, not quite ready to break the skin-to-skin contact just yet.

Howard lay panting, catching his breath and coming back into his body after the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just experienced. Vince positively curled into him, spreading gentle kisses over his shoulder, neck, and face. A faint smile broke out over Howard’s face as he felt Vince curl his head into Howard’s shoulder affectionately. Howard stroked Vince’s back, gently, slowly, caringly, and, exhausted by his earlier orgasm, feeling warm and adored in Vince’s embrace, he began to drift off to sleep. As his breathing slowed to normal and his eyelids fluttered shut, he felt Vince gently stroking him behind the ears, a stroke that became a purposeful _ skritch _ when Howard leaned into it.

“You don’t have to treat me like your dog just because I got bitten by a werewolf, you know,” Howard murmured. 

Vince paused for a moment, thinking. “But you’re my best friend,” he answered, petting Howard sweetly on the flanks. 

The tenderness of Vince’s touch, the softness of his voice, and the earnestness of his words combined with the exhausting events of the night before--having gone from respectable zookeeper to werewolf to Vince’s _ lover, _all in the span of a single night--caught up with Howard. He curled in on himself, and began to weep. 

Vince, completely energized by the fact that he’d gone from apprentice zookeeper to pet owner to werewolf to Howard’s lover in the span of a single night, was shocked by this emotional outburst. 

“Howard!” he cried, sitting up to better check on the man. “Howard, what’s wrong? It’s gonna be all right, I promise. We don’t have to--”

“Nsdhfrmm,” said Howard, voice thick with tears and his face buried into a pillow. 

“What’s that?”

Howard sat up, careful to wrap himself in a blanket, and faced Vince. “This is too much,” he said pathetically. 

“What’s too much?” asked Vince innocently. 

“Well, you, and me, and..._ us,” _Howard said, gesturing between them to emphasize the point. 

Vince tried very, very hard to understand, but try as he might, his one brain cell refused to comprehend that what had happened last night and this morning could possibly be anything but absolutely brilliant. “What could possibly be too much about _ us?” _ he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Well, um, you see, uh...” Howard stammered, looking as confused as Vince. “I mean… do… do you really think that?”

“‘Course you’re my best friend, Howard,” Vince answered with the sunshine smile that lit up the room. “You know that.” 

“So this, all of this...” Howard said, making a vague hand gesture between himself and Vince, “it doesn’t change that?”

“No,” said Vince casually. “Just means we get to play outside once a month, and hopefully engage in some vigorous bumming more often than that.” 

Howard choked on his tears at hearing the phrase “vigorous bumming” spoken so flippantly. “So you… you liked it?”

“It was _ genius, _Howard,” replied Vince, still grinning. “I’d do it again, if you wanted to.” 

“Yes,” answered Howard too quickly. He took a deep breath. “But, maybe not now. I have a lot to process. We’ve become _ werewolves, _ Vince. That’s not to be taken lightly. Not only have I been thus tarnished, but I’ve ruined _ your _life, too, Vince. Now you can never know a truly happy, normal life. You’ll be forever cursed to wander the earth, enduring the full moon, once a month knowing--”

“I’ll put the kettle on then, shall I?” said Vince knowingly. He was, after all, Howard’s best friend, and knew Howard’s process of processing would involve multiple cups of strong tea and a lot of heavily-worded monologues. 

Three hours, several cups of tea, and a few grandiose speeches later, Howard was still working his way through his werewolf-induced existential crisis and attempting to make a gentle peace with his new normal. He was a lone wolf no more; instead of Howard Moon, Colon, Explorer, he was now Howard Moon, Werewolf, boyfriend to Vince Noir, Also Werewolf.

Howard had never had a boyfriend, nor a girlfriend, nor a significant (nor insignificant) other of any kind, much less the werewolf kind. It was overwhelming, and a little scary, but somehow, the fact that it was _ Vince _ made it much less overwhelming and scary than he’d expected. The overwhelming and scary part of the whole thing was not the change in the status of his relationship with Vince, it was the fact that they had both become _ werewolves _.

Howard’s chest burned with guilt. _ He’d _ been the one to turn Vince, sweet, kind, innocent Vince, into a bloodthirsty _ monster _. Despite the fact that Vince did not seem disturbed by this fact (in fact, he’d excitedly regaled Howard with ideas of all the adventures he and Howard could now have), Howard was more than disturbed--he was inconsolate.

Oblivious to the depths of Howard’s inner torment, Vince nattered on excitedly. "We're gonna run really fast, won't we, Howard? And we'll howl up at the moon together, and all the small animals will fear our mighty presence, eh, Howard?”

Howard sobbed, finally distracting Vince from his monologue. 

“Howard? HOWARD? Why you crying, Howard?"

"Don't you understand, Vince?” Howard wailed. “We’re _ werewolves! _ There's no cure for this! I've ruined you, and any hope you had of a normal relationship with anyone else."

Vince squinted, trying to make sense of what Howard was saying, but it was impossible. “Wait, didn’t we just decide that we’re going to be boyfriends from now on? Why would I want a relationship with anybody else?”

“But I’m--I’m a monster! And I made you into a monster, just like me!”

Vince rolled his eyes. “You’re not a monster, Howard. I mean, you like jazz, and that’s pretty monstrous, but no offense, Howard, I don’t think there’s any chance of me turning into a jazz freak just ‘cause we’re shagging now. Unless...” he trailed off, eyeing Howard suspiciously, “you’ve got the Spirit of Jazz inside you again. Cos that’s just not right, Howard, letting the Spirit of Jazz up inside you when you’ve got a boyfriend now--”

“Vince!” Howard shouted. 

“I mean I know you’re a man of action or experience or whatever, but cheating’s just not on--”

“VINCE!” Howard yelled, louder this time.

“What?” Vince asked, looking a bit cross at having been interrupted.

“I’m not talking about the Spirit of Jazz! I’m talking about the _ wolf.” _

“Oh, _ that _,” Vince said, scratching his scalp thoughtfully. “The wolf’s pretty brilliant, don’t you think?”

“The wolf is not ‘brilliant,’ Vince,” Howard snapped, baring his teeth a bit. “It’s not a _ game. _ You can’t take it out to play once a month then put it back in a cabinet. Once it’s out, it’s out there. Bloodthirsty and wild and unpredictable.” 

Vince chewed his thumb thoughtfully before asking, "Hey, Howard, d'ya think you can throw a stick for me? When it's the wolf-times?"

Howard buried his face in his arms and sobbed. "I won't have THUMBS, Vince!" He slammed his head on the table so hard that the two mugs of tea clattered to the floor.

Vince got up to fetch a rag to clean up the mess, at a loss for how to comfort Howard. And so, Vince did what he usually did in times of crisis--he went to see Naboo.

Dragging a sobbing, shambling Howard Moon across the zoo grounds to Naboo’s kiosk was not, precisely, Vince’s idea of a good time. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite of a good time--Howard was big and tall and very, very difficult to move when he got into a good sulk.

And Howard’s current sulk wasn’t just a _ good _ sulk--it was positively _ epic _, a sulk for the ages.

Vince couldn’t understand. Hadn’t he and Howard been pining for one another for literal _ years _ ? You’d think, Vince thought, that Howard would be _ happy _ about this turn of events, especially considering all the sad, lovelorn poetry he wrote. Except, he kept getting hung up on the whole _ werewolves _ thing, which honestly, Vince couldn’t understand.

As for Vince, he was literally ecstatic. He and Howard were finally _ boyfriends _ , and not just boring, standard-normal boyfriends--they were _ werewolf boyfriends_, which, Vince thought, was _ way cooler _. 

Unfortunately, Howard was less enthused about being werewolf boyfriends than Vince. Luckily, the zoo had Naboo, and Naboo had good drugs. 

The kiosk window was shuttered, but Vince simply knocked. When his initial knock was ignored, he began pounding on the door obnoxiously, which summoned the shaman.

Naboo blearily opened the window of the kiosk, blinking rapidly as a thick cloud of pungent smoke emerged. “You ballbags, _ again_,” he sighed, making to shut the kiosk window. “I was _ trying _ to hotbox in here, you know.”

Before he could shutter the window again, Vince shoved Howard in front of it. 

Confronted with the sight of a sulking, grey-faced Howard, Naboo blanched. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s having a crisis,” Vince said.

Rolling his eyes, Naboo opened the kiosk door to invite Vince and Howard inside, all the while muttering, “When is Howard _ not _ having a crisis.”

As much as Vince loved Howard, he had to admit Naboo had a point, especially considering how difficult Howard was to move when in the midst of one of his sulks.

Somehow, he and Naboo managed to yank Howard over the threshold and deposit him into a stack of the silk pillows that made up most of Naboo’s decor.

Naboo wasted no time in stoking the coals on his hookah, grabbing the mouthpiece and inhaling. “What’s Howard freaking out about now?” he asked, glaring at the man in question.

Howard promptly rolled into the fetal position and let out a wail.

Clearly Howard was in no state to discuss his problems. Vince, however, knew Naboo’s patience would be running out soon. “Well, remember that.... thing... you said not to let happen?”

Naboo nodded, taking another pull off the hookah.

“Well,” Vince said, “it happened.”

Naboo coughed on a mouthful of smoke. In fact, even after his lungs had been cleared, he kept hacking. “Vince,” he said between coughs, “that’s _ perverted.” _

“I meant the biting thing, not the mating thing!”

Naboo looked skeptical, but he didn’t ask any more questions, to Vince’s relief. Instead, he knelt down next to Howard, pressing a hand to his forehead as if checking for a fever. “Well, let’s take a look at your boyfriend...” Naboo said, then paused. Something wasn’t right: Vince wasn’t protesting his use of the word “boyfriend”. Something was wrong, very wrong. “Hey! Aren’t you going to say something about how Howard isn’t your boyfriend or something?”

“Well,” Vince said, smiling and blushing, “you see, Howard is _ actually _ my boyfriend now, so...”

Naboo gagged, then composed himself. “Now _ that_, Vince, is _ extremely _ perverted.”

“Oi! It happened _ after _ we changed back into humans, both of us!” Vince scratched his head. “Although there was a little bit of humping before then, but we were both wolves! It’s perfectly natural!”

“It’s still perverted,” Naboo said, more insistent than ever. 

Vince rolled his eyes. Between the moody Shaman and his sobbing boyfriend, even _ he _was beginning to lose patience. “Yeah, woteva, we’re both well perverted. Can you help him, though?”

Naboo narrowed his eyes at the sobbing Howard. “Sure.”

With that, Naboo shoved the mouthpiece of his hookah into Howard’s mouth and pinched his nose shut, forcing Howard to inhale the smoke until he coughed. Just as Howard got his breath back, he opened his mouth to shout at Naboo, who put the hookah back into Howard’s mouth.

Naboo repeated the process a few times until Howard was too stoned to be upset. In fact, Howard was too stoned to be much of... anything. He sprawled on the pile of pillows, a dazed, goofy half-smile on his face.

Vince snapped his fingers, and Howard blinked twice, then began laughing maniacally. “What did you give him?” Vince asked, concerned.

“Oh, you know, weed,” Naboo said, still smoking his hookah. “A blend of Girl Scout Cookies and White Widow. He’ll be fine.”

“You gave Howard _ marijuana?” _ Vince asked. Howard, being rather straight laced, did not indulge often in Naboo’s drugs, but when he did--

Howard began snapping his fingers and scatting, already deep in the jazz trance. 

Vince felt the itching of a jazz-induced allergic fit start on the inside of his wrists. “Oh, Naboo, look what you’ve done! If he’s gonna be singing jazz all day I’ll be in a right state.” 

“Look, you came to me for help and I’ve given it to you. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.” 

“Right, cheers, Naboo,” Vince sulked, “thanks for giving Howard drugs and me a rash.” 

Naboo turned to rummage through his stash, cleverly concealed within a cabinet in the caravan. He emerged holding two small glasses of orange juice. “Drink this,” he said. “It’ll calm down your allergies. And Howard--Howard, stop playing air trumpet and drink this, yeah?”

Vince should have known better than to drink or eat anything from Naboo, but while Vince had many redeeming qualities, a vast intellect wasn’t one of them. He swallowed the juice, and Howard swallowed his, and within minutes both men were passed out among Naboo’s cushions and pillows, leaving the Shaman to do his business. 

Unknown minutes, hours, or perhaps even days later, Howard and Vince awoke from their drug-induced haze at roughly the same time. Vince started giggling as soon as he saw Howard--half his moustache had been snipped away. 

“What?” Howard asked. “Have I got shit on my face again?”

It was an honest question, considering the hazards of their employment as zookeepers. “No,” Vince said, fighting the urge to giggle, “but your moustache is missing--”

“My moustache!” Howard cried, rushing to check himself out in the mirrored surface of the tray Naboo used to cut lines of cocaine, conveniently left out on the low-slung kiosk coffee table.

Howard stared at himself in the dusty surface, tracing his recently-denuded upper lip with a shaking finger. “My glorious moustache...”

“It’s OK, Howard,” Vince said, patting him on the back to soothe him. He’d only been Howard’s boyfriend for a few hours, but Vince had the feeling he’d be doing this quite often. “It’ll grow back in a year or two.”

Howard turned to face him, anger burning in his eyes. “I’ll kill him!” he cried, looking madly around the room for the small, stoned shaman who had shaved him. 

“Wait!” Vince cried, grabbing Howard’s shoulder to restrain him. “Don’t kill Naboo! He’s helping us!”

Howard turned to face Vince, and all the anger drained from his expression in an instant. “Vince...” he choked out.

“Wot?” Vince asked, reaching up to scratch his scalp the way he usually did when he was confused about something. His hair felt weird... shorter, almost....

“Vince!” Howard repeated. “Your--your _ hair!” _

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Vince asked.

Howard held Naboo’s mirrored drug tray in front of Vince’s face. All color drained from Vince’s face as he studied his reflection, jaw dropping and eyes widening. 

“What--what did he _ do?” _ he cried, hands scrambling in his own scalp to try and assess the damage. There was one large chunk of hair missing right from the top of his head, like a child had taken scissors and just _ chopped _at will. Vince’s eyes started rolling up into his head as he breathed, “Oh, Howard, I feel faint--” 

Howard threw aside the tray and helped Vince lie back on the cushions, all the while murmuring platitudes to poor Vince, who kept repeating, “My hair, my hair…” over and over again. Howard tried to find Vince some water, but didn’t trust any liquids inside the caravan. He was tempted to give Vince one of Naboo’s chocolates, as chocolate always helped Vince calm down, but, as it was probably laced with drugs, Howard decided not to trust any of the solids in Naboo’s kiosk, just to be safe.

“Vince,” he said calmly. “We need to get back to the hut. Can you walk, darling?”

Vince perked up, his cheeks flushing prettily at the term of endearment. “Yes,” he said weakly, sitting up. “Will you help me?”

“Always.” 

Arm in arm, they made their way back to the keeper’s hut where they began the process of tidying up the mess they’d made when they’d been werewolves out of their mind on the power of the moon. Vince helped Howard trim the rest of his moustache, and though he didn’t dare say it out loud, was glad to see it go. Howard did his best to reassure Vince that his hair was still wonderful, glamorous, the best hair, really. However, Vince was not reassured until the 2 o’clock edition of Cheekbone arrived, which, coincidentally, declared the mullet to be back in fashion again.

Both men plotted evil things to do to Naboo if and when they saw him again. 

Naboo, meanwhile, immediately posted the werewolf hair on Shamanbay, knowing the coveted yet rare ingredient would fetch an incredible price on the Shaman black market. Already, he was plotting ways to obtain more next month. Luckily, neither Howard nor Vince were particularly bright, and they would probably be _ especially _ stupid when they had dog brains during their monthly wolf-times, which meant that Naboo’s wealth had the potential to increase enough that he’d be able to invest in that property in Dalston he’d been eyeing. 

Of course Naboo would not, mention this investment to Vince and Howard, who would certainly be plotting even more evil things to do to Naboo had they known. Of course, they never actually _ acted _ on any of their plots, but they did enjoy _ thinking _ about them.

As the weeks went on, Howard’s moustache grew back, as did Vince’s hair. In fact, Vince’s hair was growing so fast he had to trim it weekly. Being a werewolf was _ awesome-- _he could try a new hairstyle every week! Which was fortunate, considering that the mullet had gone back out of fashion as swiftly as it had come back in.

While their hair was busy growing, Vince and Howard settled into their new roles. Nothing really changed--they still worked together and hung out all the time, still bickered and crimped, but now they interspersed that with frequent sex.

Howard, though he grew more confident in bed, did not grow any more dominant. Instead, he settled into a softly submissive role that made both Vince’s protective and animal instincts come out, even when the moon wasn’t full.

Vince smirked and eyed Howard’s pumpkin arse as the man shoveled dung. He tried to give Howard a playful grope, but Howard shrugged him off, having been in a sulk all day. Being _ with _ Vince didn’t seem to make Howard any less sulkier, but Vince figured that was just _ Howard _, so he sighed and wracked his brain cell for the reason Howard was sulking now.

The cogs in Vince’s mind-tank spun. Oh, _ yeah _ \--the full moon was _ tomorrow night _.

It would be their first full moon as official werewolf boyfriends, and Vince couldn’t wait. It seemed a perfect way to celebrate their one-month anniversary--actually, they could celebrate _ every _ anniversary by howling at the moon and pissing in Bob Fossil’s boots. _ Genius _.

“Cheer up, Howard,” Vince said. “Did you know tomorrow is our one-month anniversary?”

“Huh?” said Howard glumly. “It’s not until the 23rd.”

“But it’s been a whole moon cycle,” Vince whined.

“You can’t celebrate our anniversaries based on the lunar calendar,” Howard said. “No one does that. It’s not normal.”

“But _ we’re _ not normal boyfriends,” Vince reminded him. “We’re _ werewolf boyfriends _.” 

Howard dropped his dung shovel and sobbed.

Vince sighed. “Now, let’s get you a nice cup of tea, OK?”

After Howard had his tea, he fell asleep on the keeper hut couch. Vince tucked him into the granny-square afghan, bussing a kiss to Howard’s forehead, then headed to the keeper hut to help Mrs Gideon with her salamander. The salamander was refusing to eat.

The salamander turned out to have just been upset by the recent changes to its diet. It wanted more crickets, and less worms. Problem solved, Mrs Gideon invited Vince to stay for tea. It didn’t take long before Vince was spilling his guts over Lady Grey and lavender-lemon scones.

“I dunno, Mrs Gideon. It’s hard,” Vince admitted over tea in the reptile house. “I mean I love Howard, but he has so many feelings all the time, and they’re usually not good ones.”

“Wait,” Mrs Gideo said, scrunching up her nose. “Who’s Howard?”

“My boyfriend!” Vince blurted before he could stop himself. 

“Oh, you have a boyfriend, Vince?” Mrs Gideon asked. “That’s nice. I always wondered when you were going to get over that panda.”

The two of them shared a moment of commiseration over their respective failed romances with Chi Chi the panda.

“Yeah, but Chi Chi, she was just a bit of fun, you know, not like Howard. He’s the real thing,” Vince sulked. “I just wish that he wouldn’t get so upset about the full moon.”

“Why doesn’t your boyfriend like the full moon?” Mrs Gideon asked. Her prim lips quirked into a smile, and she raised her hand to her mouth to hide her grin before adding, “Is he some kind of werewolf?”

“Well, _ actually _\--” Vince began, but he was interrupted by the slamming of a door and someone yelling, “Vince! Vince!”

Vince smiled. He _ knew _ that voice...

Just then, Howard sidled into the staff room of the reptile hut where Vince and Mrs Gideon were taking tea. “Vince? Vince? Where are you? It’s feeding time for the porpoises!!” He popped his head into the snake room. “Oh, there you are.” He greeted Vince with a quick hug. They were still working on Howard’s whole _ don’t touch me _ thing.

“Hey, Howard,” Vince said, his face lighting up from just the casual touch. 

“Is this your boyfriend, Vince?” Mrs Gideon asked.

“Oh, yeah!” Vince said. “Mrs Gideon, this is Howard, my boyfriend. Howard, this is Mrs Gideon, reptile--”

“I know who Mrs Gideon is, Vince,” Howard said, rolling his eyes. 

Mrs Gideon glared at Howard. “You don’t have to dress as a zookeeper to visit Vince at work, you know,” she said nasally. 

“I’m not visiting Vince at work! I work here!” Howard insisted.

“Oh, did Vince get you a job, then?”

“No, Vince did not get me a job at the zoo, Mrs Gideon. I’ve been working here for ten years!”

“I don’t think so, sir,” Mrs Gideon huffed. “I would remember you.”

“You _ never _ remember me, Mrs Gideon,” Howard said, his voice dangerously close to another sulk. 

Mrs Gideon raised a brow and left the room.

“What were you doing, Vince?” Howard demanded, looking visibly distressed.

“I was just talking to Mrs Gideon,” Vince said.

“How did she know I was your boyfriend?”

“Well, I told her,” Vince said.

“How could you talk to a stranger about our personal lives, Vince?” Howard moaned, clutching his hair and his heart at the same time.

Vince fought the urge to roll his eyes. Was Howard always going to get this emotional just before his cycle? He tried to scratch Howard behind the ear, but the affectionate gesture only seemed to make Howard sob harder and mutter something muffled about not being Vince’s dog.

“OK, Howard, I think you’re getting a little worked up now,” Vince said. “I know just what you need--some of Naboo’s weed. That’ll calm you right down.” Vince crinkled his nose--he’d have to take a Priteze tablet, but it seemed a small sacrifice to make. Howard was never so calm as when he was in a jazz trance, and Howard desperately needed some calm right now. The porpoises could wait.

Luckily, Naboo’s kiosk was open. He was staring stonedly into his crystal ball as Vince deposited Howard in front of the kiosk window. Naboo was woken from his trance by the sound of Howard’s wails.

“Oh, you ballbags,” Naboo sighed. “Again.”

By now, he knew how to deal with Howard’s wolf problems. He shoved a vial of marijuana tincture down Howard’s throat before Howard could react. What Naboo lacked in height or mass, he surely made up in speed, Vince thought. _ And _ he had good advice, and equally good drugs.

"I dunno, Naboo,” Vince said, scooting over to put some room between himself and Howard’s jazz trance, “I think Howard's just, like, anxious about his... _ monthlies." _

Naboo rolled his eyes. “I think I should be charging you for these sessions, Vince. I don’t want to hear about your problems, but I could pretend to if you paid me.”

Before Vince could mutter a response, Bob Fossil interrupted.

“Howard Moon is on the rag?” Fossil asked, loudly enough that anyone in the Zooniverse within a 20 foot radius could hear that Howard was having his time of the month. “That is disgusting, and by ‘disgusting’ I mean it’s turning me on like a Dutch oven in winter,” said Fossil, rubbing his nipples through his too-tight blue shirt. Vince gave him an appalled look as Fossil reached into his pockets. 

“Here,” he said, handing Vince a bottle of Feminax. “I keep this on hand for the lady hermit crabs,” Fossil said with a knowing look. “I’m going to go now, and definitely _ not _tell everyone I see that Howard’s riding the cotton pony.” 

Vince was careful to hide the Feminax before Howard caught a glimpse of it and had another crisis. Luckily, Howard was still deep in his jazz trance, and he noticed nothing. “Hey, Fossil,” he asked, a little too casually, “who’s on nightwatch tomorrow?”

“Moose and Kerouac. Why?”

“Well,” Vince said, batting his lashes suggestively, “can me and Howard do nightwatch tomorrow? Please?” He bit his lip coquettishly.

His efforts had the desired effect. Fossil was staring at Vince with that expression again--half dumbstruck, half lovestruck, all deranged. “Absolutely, my baby bubble bear.”

“Actually,” Vince said, running the back of his hand up Fossil’s fat forearm, hating himself the whole time, “can me and Howard have nightwatch on the full moon all the time?”

“Really?” Fossil asked, his eyes widening at the contact. “You can have whatever you want, Vincey, you’ve never done anything wrong in your entire life and you deserve everything your precious little heart desires.” 

Vince withdrew his hand immediately. “Cheers,” he said, turning away and going back to Howard. 

If he thought he heard Fossil mumble, “I love you” under his breath, he chose to ignore it. 

Thankfully, Fossil soon fucked off to yell at some Russian tourists for feeding the ocelots, and Vince took the opportunity to buy some weed brownies to feed Howard if he threatened to develop another crisis, and then bought some extra Priteze tablets, just in case.

“You know,” Naboo said, counting out the twelve tablets, “this stuff is _ way _ more effective if you cook it into meth first.”

Vince glared. “I’ll just take the pills, thanks.”

He immediately swallowed one of the Priteze tablets, then gently slung an arm across the small of Howard’s back, applying a little pressure at a time until Howard woke from his trance, glancing down at Vince and smiling softly.

“C’mon, Howard, let’s go,” Vince said, nudging Howard toward the keeper hut. Howard, drowsy and loose-limbed from Naboo’s Banana Haze (a strain he’d been developing especially for his familiar Bollo), let himself be led easily. 

The following evening, just before dusk, Howard and Vince made their way to the Jungle Room, having stolen the key from Bob Fossil’s office. The zoo had long since closed, and the animals were huddling down for the night, the only sounds the chirping of crickets and clicking bat sonar. Howard shuffled along reluctantly, a leaden string on the red balloon of Vince’s happiness. 

“I don’t understand why you asked Fossil if we could work nightwatch from now on,” Howard griped.

Vince was so excited he wanted to skip to the Jungle Room. He couldn’t _ wait _ to transform tonight, it was going to be _ genius. _ He’d left out a couple of rare steaks he’d... liberated... from the zoo feedroom, so he and Howard wouldn’t get hungry. He’d even laid some perfect sticks aside for playing fetch later. All day Vince had been cagey and wired, like he’d had too much caffeine. The weak light of the rising moon seemed to calm him a bit. “C’mon, what else are we gonna do? Turn into werewolves in our apartments?” 

“Well, _ yeah _ ,” Howard said, ambling after Vince reluctantly; he dragged his feet, certain that doom was imminent. Howard’s heart broke all over again, knowing Vince was now doomed to this fate as well, knowing that it was _ Howard _ who had infected him... How could he have done this to poor, innocent Vince, Vince who was still so young, had so much to give, who still--

“What would we do? Eat Wheatabix and piss on the couch? Howl at the moon until the neighbors call the police with a noise complaint?”

“We could... sleep...”

“All night long?” Vince protested, a hint of a whine in his voice.

“I mean, that’s what we normally do at night,” Howard said. “We do sleep for most of it, actually.”

Vince reached for Howard’s hand. “Howard?” Vince asked, looking up at him with the blue eyes Howard knew so well, eyes that radiated comfort and happiness and _ love. _“It’s gonna be alright, Howard.”

Howard studied Vince’s hand in his own, marked the contrast in size and skin tone and Vince’s chipped black nail varnish. He still felt terrible, guilty and achy and strange, but that didn’t stop Howard from smiling. 

Maybe Vince was right. They had each other, and as long as they had each other, they’d be alright. They always had been before.

Howard cast an eye at the sky. The moon was rising; soon, it would be night. And when the night came, so would the wolf. 

He tightened his hand around Vince’s, feeling the reassuring squeeze Vince gave him in return. And then Vince let go, but only for a second, just long enough to slip the key to the Jungle Room door out of his boot and into the lock and then lock the door behind them.

“I’d rather be a werewolf with you, Howard, than be normal with anyone else,” Vince said. “I hope you know that.”

Howard had not, in fact, known that. “Oh, Vince,” he tried to say, but it came out like a sob.

Vince looked concerned, and Howard sniffed a couple of times, and tried again. “I wish we could be normal together.”

“But we’re _ not _ normal,” Vince said. “We’re _ better _ than normal. We’re _ werewolves _ and it’s gonna be _ brilliant _.”

“I dunno, Vince, I--”

Vince shut Howard up by bussing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Trust me,” Vince said, holding out his hand. 

And Howard decided maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Smiling weakly, he took Vince’s smaller hand in his own. Hands clasped tight, they entered the Jungle Room, and Howard cast a forlorn look back at the sleeping Zooniverse for dramatic effect as Vince shut and locked the door.

The Jungle Room was as lushly verdant as Howard remembered. The forest was dense and humid, and the primeval landscape sparked something primal in Howard.

He took a deep breath. All the smells of the jungle--the dirt and vines--seemed magnified. And then there was something else in the air too, something undeniably _ Vince. _

Before he knew what he was doing, Howard let out a soft growl. The sound made Vince smile, and the moonlight glinted off his canines, his teeth sharper and whiter than Howard remembered. But Vince’s face was full of joy, and his joy made Howard feel a little less hopeless.

Howard looked from Vince’s face to the sky. The last dying rays of sun had slipped below the horizon, and the moon shone bright, round, and undeniably full.

Vince toed off his boots, setting them by the door. “Don’t want anything to happen to them,” he said by way of explanation.

The simple domesticity of the action made Howard toss his head back to laugh, only a howl escaped instead. And then, the change began.

Minutes later, two wolves, one a tawny toasted muffin and one blonde, stared at each other. Then, the blonde wolf, Vince, his tongue lolling dopily, headbutted Howard, the summer khaki-colored wolf. Howard startled, then relaxed, and so Vince shoved his snout into Howard’s bum, greeting him in the traditional manner of canids everywhere: with a thorough bum sniff.

Human Howard would be mortified to know that Wolf Howard was quick to return the gesture.

Once the customary greetings were completed, the blonde wolf playfully nipped his chocolate-colored companion under the chin, instigating a riveting game of chase beneath the moonlight. The massive wolves took turns tumbling, scambling, and bounding through the wildwood, pausing occasionally to howl their joy into the night sky. 

Eventually, several games of chase and a meal of raw meat later, the drab mahogany wolf used his size advantage to scent the slightly smaller golden wolf, nuzzling into his neck affectionately. The blonde wolf returned the affectionate scent-marking, then wriggled out from beneath the brown wolf and mounted him. 

What happened after that, only the moon knows. 

The Jungle Room has long been a part of the Zooniverse Legendarium, even before Tommy Nooka’s mysterious disappearance. Now, new stories unfold, whispered at lunch breaks among the keepers, tales of howls and two large beasts, one dark and one light, rampaging through the trees when the night is quiet and the moon is full. 

They say that on the nights of the full moon, whatever lives in the Jungle Room awakens. If you find yourself at the worst zoo in London during the full moon, you might just catch a glimpse of it yourself, if you’re lucky.

If you’re unlucky, well, you might get bitten. Luckily, however, two of the keepers would reassure you, with some authority, that being a werewolf is pretty genius. You get to chase sticks, howl at the moon, and best of all, sniffing each other’s bums is considered totally normal social behavior. 

And if you doubt the legends, well, if you were to ask the Moon, he might say something like this:

“The best moon is the full moon. Sometimes, being the full moon makes Tom Selleck and his ugly wife turn into wolves! And… and then, they do things in the jungle, in the alone times. I look away, it makes me feel sick. Jupiter hasn’t got any wolves, eh heh heh! Only me. I’m the Moon.” 

**Author's Note:**

> We love hearing what you think! Comments and kudos are the fuel with which we write.
> 
> Find us on tumblr [@the-stoned-ranger](https://the-stoned-ranger.tumblr.com/) & [@bob-skeleton](https://bob-skeleton.tumblr.com)!


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